


What We Say Around The Fire

by Redstreakfox



Category: Mao Mao: Heroes of Pure Heart (Cartoon)
Genre: Flashbacks, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Pure Heart Valley, Travelling together, non-canon backstory, romantic beginnings, taking care of each other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-12-28 02:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21129473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redstreakfox/pseuds/Redstreakfox
Summary: Up until now, Mao Mao had never really considered himself good at keeping and maintaining connections with others. So what happens when a recently met badger seems to be the one making the effort instead?





	What We Say Around The Fire

**Author's Note:**

> ~And ultimately I believe we'll be okay~  
~It's so cliché to say these things, but repetition is a key~  
~I think I'm better when I'm with you~
> 
> -Khai Dreams

There was no need for the cat to turn his head around to see the scene playing out behind him. His other senses, honed from years of training, were just as able to alert him to all of the goings-on of his surroundings.

Green eyes forward, black ears swiveled back, he heard the changes in the badger’s left foot first, then the right. It began and ended in a lightning split second. Slow, heavy footsteps gave way to a quickened pace borne out of panicked course correction rather than deliberate movement. A chorus of alarmed, interspersed grunts to match the off-rhythm tip-taps of those scattered footfalls suddenly rang out in succession. 

Grunts crescendoed into a single yell, climaxed only a moment later by a booming thud and the metallic rumble tumble of supplies and equipment clanging against one another as they all rolled and fell together. 

There was no need for the cat to turn his head around to see the finale of what had played out behind him: a sore and exhausted badger who had just become even friendlier with the ground below him, thanks to the off-kilter balance of the overstuffed pack he carried. By the time the mustelid was able to prop himself up with a groan, the ebony cat had already moved to hover over him, arms full with a few of the dropped belongings that had been scattered around them.

“Badgerclops, I told you back in Squire’s Meadow that you were getting carried away with your purchases,” the feline stated, a tone of slight irritation creeping in to match the look on his face. “Cleaning this is going to set us back at least a good hour.”

“Look, man, cut me some slack. This is the first time in a while I’ve had disposable income and I wanted to make the most of it,” he argued back. Badgerclops looked at his right arm with a grin, its metallic sheen glistening in the reflection of the lowering sun. “These tech upgrades are something you’ll thank me for one day.” 

Shifting his gaze back up towards the cat, he then gestured to the myriad of provisions that now dotted the ground around them. “And the rest of what I bought is for us?” he continued. “To survive out here since _ somebody _ wanted to send the aero-cycle to a mechanic three kingdoms over. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that walking isn’t really my thing.”

With a huff, the exasperated badger sat up and slipped the pack out from behind him. He surveyed the area around them once more, mood softening as he began to concentrate. With all the giddiness of a child showing off a new toy, he straightened his mechanized arm and chuckled as it extended forward to grab a food container that had fallen well beyond his normal reach. All the while his stubby tail was wagging a mile a minute. 

“See? Useful,” he said, waving the now slightly crumpled package of donuts high in the air for the cat to see. Mao Mao simply gave a twitch of an ear in response. His eyes were still swimming with traces of annoyance, but now a rare undercurrent of amusement seemed to faintly lurk beneath there as well. 

A bemused smirk, reserved for when the cat was no longer looking at him, was the only indication that the badger had noticed.

It was barely more than a couple of moons past since the two had first met as potential adversaries, Mao Mao a wandering hero for hire and Badgerclops the core muscle of an organized thieving syndicate. A chance encounter on the road had led the two of them to forming a tentative partnership on the condition that the badger atone for his past transgressions. He had eagerly accepted.

At first the pair seemed too incongruous. Though he had spoken true about a lack of innate villainy, Badgerclops was a case study in the difficulty of teaching a tired dog new tricks. In that first week alone Mao Mao had caught him about to make off with a small sack of wares he had lifted from a local farmer’s market they had been passing through at the time. In that moment, at least, Badgerclops had the decency to feel embarrassed about what he had done. 

“Old habits die hard,” he had said sheepishly.

From there, things started to go progressively, albeit slowly, better for the both of them. Mao Mao worked to be a guiding force, first impressing on his new partner that giving the money he still had from his criminal days to different charities in towns they travelled by was a better idea than keeping it for himself. It was a hard go at first, having to split what savings Mao Mao did have to keep the two of them fed proved to be a task a little more daunting than he had expected.

Getting Badgerclops to drop his painfully bogus accent was another sort of challenge entirely.

And then there was the matter of keeping the badger’s more lazy impulses at bay, teaching him to rush towards the sound of trouble instead of ignoring it and pretending he hadn’t heard anything. Mao Mao himself was surprised to find that there were a few new tendencies he happened to pick up from his new cohort as well.

The difference between hard work and over-extension was something Mao Mao had never felt the need to learn before. Every day he awoke was just another set of hours he was blessed with to push himself faster and harder. Were there ever any training mishaps, a bandage here and a dip of rubbing alcohol there was enough of a cover for him. His wounds were ultimately just another obstacle to work through, a physical testament to the progress he was making.

It was a day like that, nearly a month into their time together, that Mao Mao had miscounted the timing of a training dismount and found himself sprawled on the ground with a rolled ankle. The pain was unrelenting, immediate and sharp. He quietly hissed through the ache until it had subsided into a more manageable, dull throb; standing back up with a few testing foot-taps and assuming another sparring stance like he had done so many times before. At least that was until, unlike all those other times, he felt a hand from behind rest firmly on his shoulder.

“Dude, what are you doing?” the badger asked, an unusual look of intense disapproval causing Mao Mao to be thrown off his guard a little. Mouth open slightly in surprise at the sudden touch, Mao Mao looked quizzingly over at the sword in his left paw before lowering it.

“Practicing my hero techniques, the same as I do every day,” he replied hesitantly, something about the warm hand still on his shoulder had made his ability to think just a nano-second slower. “A little bit of a fall isn’t something I-.”

“Hey!” the cat yelled out in shock as he was unceremoniously lifted up into the air by two unrepentant arms. “Put me down! I’m fine!” A sudden, light grasp near his affected ankle caused him to wince, his mouth reflexively widening to take in a short, involuntary gasp of air.

“Fine? Mao Mao, when I was younger I had to make my very first prosthetic myself from whatever junkyard scraps I could find. I had to learn way more about anatomy and physiology than any teen should have to know to make sure I didn’t screw up even a single nerve connection. Part of that involved knowing how much stress a body could take, and I know you think I don’t pay attention, but I watched you miss that landing and let me tell you, that ankle is anything but ‘fine’.”

“I-. it’s just...,” Mao Mao tried to lamely interject a response back before Badgerclops unexpectedly cut him off with a slight growl. 

While the two were known to have their disagreements every now and then, this was the first time Mao Mao had ever had to deal with any sort of serious reprimanding from the badger in regards to his own behavior. Under any other circumstances, he would have given a pompous quip about how a legendary hero could push through any sort of set back. Badgerclops had apparently, irritatingly, been anticipating just that sort of response.

And the cat hated being predictable.

“Look, I get it,” the badger started, emitting a sigh to try and help calm himself down. “Hero work and all of that, but one day you’re not going to be able to just walk it off, and then what? There’s rolling with the punches, and then there’s just needlessly punching yourself in the face. How can a ‘hero’ look after others if he can’t even look after himself?”

Whether Badgerclops had been expecting a response or not, Mao Mao would never know. The badger had already begun walking them both back towards their encampment with the cat still in his arms. He had been rearranged to be cradled close to the badger’s chest, legs tilted up into the air in hopes of beginning to lessen some of the fresh swelling. 

Mao Mao, looking up at Badgerclops’ face, tried to give off an uneasy chuckle in disbelief at the situation, while a light heat he desperately wanted to ignore had begun slowly scorching its way up from his whiskers to the tips of his ears. When no sound came forth, however, he relented; turning his gaze instead to silently watch the cramped tent they shared off in the horizon drift steadily closer into his field of view.

Mao Mao knew he should have fought back. Argue that Badgerclops was overreacting. Implore that being held like that was embarrassing and that he had shaken off injuries much worse than this, but somewhere, deep down in places Mao Mao tried to keep hidden from both himself and everyone else, he knew he shouldn’t make him stop, and, frankly, somewhere even deeper than that, Mao Mao didn’t want him to either.

The rest of the evening had been a more solemn affair than usual. Badgerclops, after having wrapped Mao Mao’s ankle and reminding him to rest with it propped up, set about to complete that night’s kitchen duties unaccompanied. Fetching water, collecting firewood, meal preparation, tasks that the two had split and worked on together each and every night since they had met like they had originally agreed upon.

But it was on that night, much to the detriment of Mao Mao’s restless nature, that the routine would be broken thanks to him. Later, however, once their plates had been cleaned and the fire flamed anew with fresh kindling, the cat found he was unable to sit idly by any longer.

“What are you doing?” the badger asked, slight concern tinging his voice as he watched Mao Mao try to stand balanced on his uninjured hindpaw.

“Putting away the dishes?” he replied, the crux of his arm flashing small shimmers of bright grey as the firelight reflected off the assortment of cups and plates and utensils he had collected. “All I did was fall, Badgerclops, ok? I didn’t die. I’m more than perfectly capable of sticking a few handfuls of kitchenware into a pouch.” 

A subdued shadow fell over Mao Mao as the badger moved to stand between him and the fire, blocking off a portion of its heat from reaching him. Looking up into Badgerclops glowering stare, however, the prickle of a different sort of warmth touched at the cat’s face once again. 

Had Badgerclops always been this much taller than him?

“Dude, just… stop, alright? You’ve been fidgeting all throughout dinner. You and I both know how rare it is for me to _ actively _ want to do extra work, so why is it so hard for you to just let me take care of things for one night? Even if you weren’t hurt, it’s the least I could do after all that you’ve put yourself through this past month. Besides,” the badger admonished with a huff, “you aren’t doing it right anyway.”

All Mao Mao could do in that moment was simply gawk at him.

“There are literally two steps to this: pick things up, and put things away. How could I possibly get that wrong?” the cat asked incredulously, voice threatening to rise in both volume and pitch. “And what, may I ask, have I been putting myself through?”

“Well, first of all, you’re doing it wrong because _ these _ are supposed to stay out,” Badgerclops replied, reaching down to take away two matching mugs out of the crook of Mao’s Mao’s arm. “And I need to get the tea kettle out before you dump everything on top of it.”

Traditional tea making had been a skill hammered into Mao Mao as a trade that. in many ways, was just as important to his family as their focus on heroism. The two, he had been taught, often went hand in hand with each member of the Mao clan building on the main branch’s formal recipe so as to best suit each of their needs. 

His father, for example, took advantage of the liquid’s natural caffeinated state to give himself a major boost of energy before a particularly troublesome fight. His mother, meanwhile, tinkered with a myriad of spice blends so that the aroma would influence whatever particular mood she needed when conducting business meetings with visiting clans.

For Mao Mao, however, his drink favored personal sentimentality over any sort of practical use. When the day had come for the presentation ceremony, a family tradition wherein each of the Mao children would be presented with a hand crafted tea set to call their own, Mao Mao had been wholly disheartened to only find five of them laid out on the dais, one for each of his sisters.

At the time he had simply rationalized that there had been a mistake on the part of the ceramic worker accidentally making one less set than requested. As a child, he had been far more willing to accept that obvious untruth rather than grapple with the idea that, once again, his father had simply forgotten about him, but while the reality at the time had been far easier to mentally sidestep, the feelings that came with it were much, much harder to ignore. 

Later that afternoon, when his mother had come to fetch him for their weekly trip into town, Mao Mao had refused to hold her paw while walking, passively remarking that he was no longer a kitten in need of coddling.

The rest of the evening ran its usual course: grocery shopping, his mother’s polite chit-chat with random townsfolk, dropping off a package at the local delivery station, meandering around the central plaza until the sun soon began to sink lower and lower behind the mountain range that flanked the western passes outside the city. Mao Mao, bags near bursting with different vittles in paw, had begun making his way southron towards the Mao clan estate when a twitch of his tail alerted him to something unusual taking place.

His mother, known for being a creature of habit, had wordlessly began strolling at a measured pace down a side alley the two had never before taken together. He called out to her, but thus failing to get her to do so much as even turn her head back towards him, found he had no choice but to try and follow behind her as quickly as his hind legs would allow. She escaped from view behind a corner before he could reach her, and when he had rounded it himself, he found her several yards away watching for him before once again vanishing onto another unfamiliar street. It was here, thankfully, once he had crossed onto that cobblestoned avenue as well, that the short lived chase was over.

She was standing in front of a store, staring delicately into its elegant display window as if whatever was on the other side could break just from a single glance. Mao Mao cautiously sidled up next to her, worried at what he deemed to be erratic behavior from his mother until she finally turned to look down at him with a knowing smile. She tilted her head back to the store, indicating for him to look inside the window as well, and that’s when a choked gasp caught in his throat.

At first glance, he saw nothing but the sun’s reflection bouncing and gleaming off the patchwork surfaces inside. Once his eyes adjusted, however, he was enticed by a colorful haven of porcelain cups and ceramic pots, each sporting their own intricately detailed artwork. More like a bull than a kitten, Mao Mao raced into the shop, the tinkle of the door’s bell barely announcing his entrance before he had already honed in on the one he wanted to take home.

Nestled onto a velvet cushion sat a kettle with matching twin teacups. The artwork, which Mao Mao saw as both self-prophetic and captivating, depicted a tall knight bedecked in chainmail and plated armor sitting astride a dark, chestnut furred destrier. The horse itself, mane blowing as if caught by the wind, was seen to be grazing under the protective shade of large oak tree. The warrior’s sword, meanwhile, held aloft in his left hand like the kitten’s own would be, pointed straight forward towards the rest of the scenery. 

Eyes following the blade’s direction, off in the distance beyond the hero was found a castle whose main tower was stretched so tall that its roof nearly brushed the wispy undersides of nearby clouds. Around that aforementioned castle ringed a gruesome, fiery wyvern whose tail, much like that of the castle’s tower, stretched so far that it disappeared out of sight around the curvature of the pot. Mao Mao was sure that should the pot be twisted around he’d find a final image of the two locked in fearsome combat.

As he frantically pointed at it for his mother to see he knew that, should he leave there with it then, that were he to ever one day venture out on his own heroic journey he’d have it secured and hidden somewhere safe inside of his childhood room. A promise and goal made to never return for it until his own exploits eventually rivaled that of this legendary Tea Kettle Knight himself. His mother, after inquiring with the shopkeep about its price, nodded her head at the kitten’s impassioned pleading.

Shin Mao may have never bothered to order him a set, but as his mother duly noted that didn’t stop one from being purchased either.

Later that night, the kitten found that his mother had one more surprise planned for them both. He had been told to join her in the solar once he had finished his bath and was tasked with bringing his newly acquired teapot as well. It was there, with the moon shining brightly through the room’s highest window, that he found her seated at the head of the small dining table. 

Smiling, she touched a finger to her mouth to preemptively silence him. Acquiescing, he watched as she stealthily made her way to one of the lower corners of the room’s fireplace. Shifting, she bent to lift one of the larger stones at the base of the hearth, revealing a carved out hollow wherein which she retrieved two small, silk-cotton bags. Still not having spoken, Mao Mao strode across the room to meet her, eyes wide with recognition at what she held.

Only once per year did his mother make this particular tea, near the end of the holiday season when snows blanketed the surrounding woods in a final, frightful effort to unsuccessfully keep the first signs of spring at bay. She had never mentioned to anyone what ingredients went into this tea, nor did anyone ever dare ask. 

What made it so special, what brought back so many closely guarded memories whenever Mao Mao thought back on it, was its peculiar ability to smell differently to each and every person. Specifically, it smelled of the drinker’s most favorite items. And that night, as he watched his mother work to bring the water to a boil, reflecting on how the events of that day started so low only to slowly reach so excitingly high, did the kitten know, right then and there, the kind of tea he’d strive to make and one day call his own...

The cat looked over at the badger with an air of tempered disbelief. “You? Making tea? Weren’t you the one complaining about how mine takes too long to make before calling me an ‘entitled drink snob’?” he asked, employing a mocking tone at the last bit. Mao Mao paused, slightly turned his head, and then added with a mumble, “Sure didn’t hear any complaining when you asked for a second cup though.”

In two quick, long strides, Badgerclops wordlessly crossed the distance between the pair. Mao Mao nearly lost his balance in surprise at the sudden movement until a softly furred hand, still faintly smelling of charred wood and that night’s dinner, caught him by the arm. That same hand gently brought him back down to the earth before slowly guiding his sore ankle back to the elevated pillow it had already managed to leave an impression on. The metallic arm, meanwhile, worked to pry the kitchenware out from Mao Mao’s protesting grip. All the while, the cat’s feeble attempts at sounding indignant fell resoundingly on deaf ears, especially once the badger had shifted to start rummaging through the satchel they shared.

Badgerclops, then having pulled the weathered, copper kettle out from within the pack’s main pouch and thus replacing that now empty space with the hijacked silverware, moved back past the cat and towards his seat near the fire without so much as even shooting a glance his way. 

“So first of all what you just said, about me having a fourth cup? I’m ignoring that,” he rebutted.

“I don’t really care if you ignore it or not, I… wait, a fourth cup?” the cat started. “Wha-, you told me some shady vagabond stole the rest after I left for my round of patrolling! I knew you had more than a s-”

“_Second _-ly, it’s... been a long month. I know that. For the both of us,” Badgerclops hesitated, stopping for only a moment to add another log to the campfire, “but for you especially.”

Mao Mao watched in silence as the wood left Badgerclops hand, tumbling down through the air and onto the flame carved grave of those that came before it. Watching as the ashes and dirt underneath swirled and mixed together, as if the fire had moved them itself with a great rousing cough, like a hungered beast attempting to clear its throat for a fresh new breath of life. 

Bright sparks from within the blaze flitted freely into the air in all directions, illuminating the space above like a cascade of stars only meant to shine for seconds and then vanish. Blurry constellations brought down to earth before him that, like so much of the cat’s life in these past few years, he just couldn’t seem to find a clear pattern in anymore. It was then, when he turned his head back towards his companion, that he found Badgerclops staring pensively into the growing flames as well.

Badgerclops finally broke the silence with a yawn, lazily stretching his limbs as he moved to fill the pot with enough water for the two of them. Once he finished securing the kettle into its holster above the fire, the badger settled back into his seat; an unusually wistful expression etched across his face as he slowly started to speak again. “You know, back when we first met and you asked if I wanted to hook up with you on your hero journey-”

“Woah ok, so, for the record? That is most definitely _ not _ the phrase I-”

“-I honestly thought the whole thing was... kinda weird. I mean, most people wandering alone around the wasteland only do so because they prefer it that way, but then you asked if I wanted to tag along like it was the most obvious question in the world... a hero and a thief," he quietly laughed. "Not exactly the tag-team of legends but, it wasn’t exactly like I had many other options going for me at the time, and I had to admit, you at least seemed genuine,” Badgerclops shifted his gaze over towards Mao Mao, a small smile forming as he saw the cat was indeed staring back at him, midnight colored ears up and attentive.

Badgerclops then reached once more into the large pocket of the two’s shared rucksack, pulling out from within it a sky blue knapsack that belonged to the cat. A daffodil yellow duck emblazoned across its front greeted him brightly as he brought it out into the light.

“Truth be told, I didn’t really trust you for a while,” he continued. “Even now, I still don’t know if I completely do. You can be obsessive about the hero thing, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to befriend me just to try and get a reward for turning me in later. Probably won’t be the last either.”

The cat crossed his arms, “I would have figured completely taking care of you since then would have been convincing enough.”  
  
“It was,” the badger sighed. “It is. That’s why I’m even doing this,” he gestured to the now open knapsack resting on one side of his lap, his robotic hand measuring out the exact amount of ingredients for the tea he was making. “You deserve a night to just take it easy, especially now with your ankle and all. I figured a cup of tea was the least I could do to start paying you back.”

“So then I don’t understand why you’d still have a problem trusting me.”

“I guess for the same reason I don’t understand why _ you _ trust _ me _,” the badger said. By now, the water in the kettle had reached its boiling point. Swiftly, the badger began to add in the tea leaves, stirring clockwise every now and then as he methodically added in small pinches of the requisite spice blend. Periodically, he’d even remember to throw in a counterclockwise stir to properly agitate the swirling mix, much to the cat’s hesitant surprise.

“I mean, don’t you find it a little weird that we share food, we share a tent, but not really much else? We’re supposed to be working together, but you don’t really know anything about me. You haven’t even bothered to ask either,” Badgerclops stated with a shrug.

“I don’t seem to recall you asking me either,” Mao Mao said.

“Dude, I have. Multiple times. Every time I ask about your family or your childhood, trying to start up a conversation, you stare off into space for five minutes and then walk off like I never said anything. It’s unsettling, honestly.”

“I think I would remember something like tha-”

“What was your family like?” the badger asked.

It was a short time later when a sudden twinge of pain drowned out the ringing in the cat’s ears. Looking down, he saw that his body had been trying to stand on its own. He then crashed back down onto his pillow with another agonizing gasp.

“See!” the badger remarked.

“All right! All right! Yes, I’m still dealing with a lot in that department. What about you then? I imagine your childhood was more picturesque than mine since you seem to be so willing to talk about it,” Mao Mao said.

“First of all, I appreciate you for asking,” Badgerclops said, wiping his now empty hand along his outer thigh to rid it of any leftover spices. “And second, if by ‘picturesque’ you mean colored everywhere but inside the actual lines then yeah, picturesque.”

“The village I grew up in wasn’t exactly known for being a place where you chose to settle down long term. We were stranded at the edge of a valley, overshadowed by two nearby kingdoms way bigger than us. Heck, we were lucky to even be found on a map half the time,” he said. 

“A lot of us were stuck there, and barely scraping by,” he continued, his voice taking a softer and more contemplative tone. “My dad tried to do the best he could. Traveled pretty frequently for his job, said it paid better. Always tried to be home with us when he could.” 

“My mom had the opposite problem. Couldn’t keep a job down so she was always there with me, and let’s just say she wasn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with. When my grandmother moved in with us, though, things got a little less difficult. Helped with chores and taught me stuff I didn’t even think I’d be interested in.”

“I always saw her reading or tinkering with something around the house, saying she could make it work better. Probably why I wanted to start learning mechanical work, like her. She even managed to help us with food for a while. Brought in some extra cash fixing torn uniforms for the local miners, kept us afloat while waiting on dad. She meant a lot to me, and growing up I wanted to give back to her as much as she gave to me.”

He paused for a moment to take a breath, then carefully worked to remove the kettle from its place above the fire. Now waiting for the tea to cool, the badger sat for a short time in silence; a thankful excuse to collect his thoughts before stepping back once more into his story.

“You know that mine I mentioned a bit ago? Well, my dad wasn’t bringing in as much as he used to, so my grandmother had to start taking on more seamstress jobs to offset that. I figured maybe if I started pitching in she could cut back some and have more time to read or work on her own projects again.”

“So, with the mine, I was finally old enough to work there when I turned sixteen, and they took just about anyone they could get. The two kingdoms next to us were constantly at each other’s throats, something about a petty land dispute from centuries ago, and so they often came to us wanting to buy from our coal deposits. It was the only thing that kept our village running for as long as it had.”

“Problem is, being that close to the fighting, we were often caught up in some of the crossfire. And I’m not sure how deep your knowledge on mines go, but the grounds surrounding them are already pretty shaky territory thanks to the excavating. Pair that with the volatility of a nearby war and well, an accident or two can happen…” he continued. "As it turns out, a miner isn’t exactly the safest job for a minor,” Badgerclops finished, a half-hearted chuckle worming its way out of him. A flash of metal gleamed off from his right side, reflecting the brightness of the nearby fire.

“I mean, from there you can pretty much figure out the rest. I still needed a way to make money and the Thicket Thieves promised that in spades. Sure, at the end of the day they were villains, but from where I came from they were actually kind of respected. And truth be told? That just gave me another reason to want to join.” 

“We mainly stole from bigwigs who were high up in the surrounding monarchies, people who were honestly kind of responsible for most of the awful living situations my village had been dealt with. A sort of ‘Robin Hood’ type deal, or, at least it was to begin with. By the time we attacked you on the road, things had already been going south with our reputation for quite a while.”

A sudden shadow fell over Mao Mao. Looking up, he saw the badger’s domineering figure towering over him, an outstretched arm offering a still steaming cup of tea. The cat gingerly grasped it, his gloves helping to filter out some of the searing heat radiating off the ceramic mug. 

He stared into the ebbing surface of the drink, watched it settle and then mirror his own gaze back towards him. “I…” the cat started, desperately prodding his mind in hopes of an adequate response that matched the seriousness of the badger’s words, quickly realizing that he wasn’t going to find one. “I never imagined that you would have been through any of that. You’re always so happy-go-lucky. You never really take anything seriously and so I thought…”

“What? That I must have had things easy? That I got this prosthetic for funsies?” the badger chuckled, smiling as he added the tea to his own cup. “Nah, I just figured there was no use dwelling on it, you know? Like, could you imagine if I was constantly grumpy about it all the time? How old that would get?”

“Right, of course,” the cat coughed, “being grumpy all the time…"

“Besides, we’re only here now together because of it. That’s gotta count for something, right?” the badger asked. The cat slowly nodded in agreement. 

Relaxing further into the cushion below him, he brought the tea closer to his face. It’s aroma hit him immediately, the cat discreetly sniffing the surrounding air as he tested whether the drink would meet his first requirement. Not noticing anything obviously wrong, he steeled himself as he took a timid sip. As soon as it passed his lips, then, the intensely bitter taste overtook him, spreading throughout his mouth like a wave crashing along a shoreline.

His body loosened at the familiarity. Several larger sips brought the same bitter rush, though this time with a slight kiss of sweetness marking the aftertaste. He knew then that he had reached the turning point. The last few swigs were bereft of any of the original pungent flavor, instead replaced with a taste far more saccharine in nature. It was a near perfect copy of his recipe, a tea symbolizing the lived truth his mother had taught him that no matter how bleak a situation may seem at first, a sliver of hope will always find a way to break through eventually.

“I take it I did a pretty alright job?” the badger asked, breaking Mao Mao away from both his thoughts and the now empty cup.

“I mean it’s a bit hotter than I’d like but... how did you replicate this so closely? I don’t have the steps written down anywhere so-”

“I just watched you make it the first time, dude,” the badger said, grinning as he pointed to his good eye. “My arm isn’t the only part of me that’s had an enhancement.”

Something about that selfless grin struck Mao Mao in a way that, until that night, it had never really done so before. He could feel it internally, his heart running a new rhythm, twin beats every now and then instead of the usual single pulse. A latent heat rushing to his whiskers.

If he was honest with himself, the badger had been sort of right in his presumptions. When they had first met, Mao Mao had only really seen him as a project to work on. After all, what kind of legendary hero would he be if he couldn’t even inspire a single petty thief to change his ways? Now, however, their connection was scarily lapsing into something with potential meaning, something more than just two disparate people walking down the same road together.

Could they be friends?

Were they already friends?

Toying with the word in his head only managed to lodge a badger-sized pit into the sinking depths of both his body and mind. The last time he let someone get that close… well, at least he never had to worry about accidentally sitting on his own tail again.

Whatever the two were becoming, it was a discussion the cat meant to save for another night. He brought a gloved paw to his mouth as a sudden yawn tried to escape him. Emotionally, he was already drained, and it seemed that physically he was reaching that point as well. 

“Well, as informative as this night has been, I’m afraid I’m going to have to call it quits. A hero needs to remain well rested after all,” Mao Mao said. He placed his empty cup down on the grass near him and pivoted his gaze towards the badger. “A hero... also expresses his gratitude,” he said, clearing his throat as he took on a more serious demeanor. “Thank you for the tea, Badgerclops. Really, I appreciate it immensely. It’s been a while since someone extended to me a kindness like that.”

“No problem, guy. It’s the least I could do.”

The cat nodded, smiling. Then, with a huff, he twisted his body around, working to steady one paw on the ground as he tested out a way to try and stand back up. On a second unsuccessful attempt, however, he felt the caress of two familiar arms cradle up under him, lifting him gently into the air like they had done only hours before.

“Won’t even let me take myself to bed, huh?” the cat asked, the snide irritation that had been in his voice earlier that evening now completely tamed and vanished.

“Dude, you know that’s not going to happen,” the badger said, his warm voice settling over the sable-furred cat like a woolen blanket as he began to walk them both towards the tent. “Not as long as I can help it anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> Woahhhh first time posting in years but it's with a fandom I feel really, really engaged in. To preface, it's been a while since I've written anything so there's bound to be some mistakes (ones that I will be fixing over the next few days.) I wanted to explore potential backstories with these characters, especially with Badgerclops whom we know so little of, but I tried to make it as canon compliant as I could. As far as characterization goes, I like the idea of him being more caring to those he feels a connection with so I tried to write for him in that mindset, hope its not too OOC haha. Anyway, feedback would be majorly appreciated good or bad. And thanks to everyone who took the time to make it this far.


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